Night Out
by Olivia Gilbert
Summary: Olivia meets Dean Winchester at a bar.


It had been such a long day. I was tired of everyone's bull. Tired of pretending like everything was okay and I cared about the crap everyone was dumping on me. I needed a release. I needed to go crazy and do something stupid without caring about the consequences. Honestly, I needed to find a hot guy and use him shamelessly. The first two bars were strike-outs. Practically empty and playing crap music. I didn't last five minutes at them. The third one was better, but not by much. I sat at the counter staring at my drink. I'd already lasted longer than I had at the other bars, but unless things picked up soon I'd be leaving here with the same feeling of disappointment as the other two.

Just as I finished my drink a tall man in a leather jacket came in and sat a few seats away from me at the counter. I ordered another drink. It couldn't hurt to stay for just a little longer. When it came I took a sip and nearly spit it out. That was *not* what I ordered. The guy looked over at me for a second but looked away as soon as he realized I had seen him. But dang I saw those eyes. Bright green and big. I knew my face was red but I carefully avoided looking at anyone as I ran the tiny napkin over my mouth and tried not to think about those eyes. The noise I heard from down the bar made me look up. The guy was making a face at his drink and I smirked.

"I'm guessing this is yours?" he said as he slid the glass down to me.

I took a sip and slid the other glass to him. "And this one's probably yours."

He smiled, tested it carefully, then downed it in one gulp.

"Definitely" he said.

It was ten minutes and a few drinks later before he stood up and went over to old jukebox sitting in the corner. I couldn't help but stare at his legs as he walked and stood over the box. His legs bowed like none I'd ever seen before and I had to shake my head to get rid of the image that popped into it. When the jukebox started playing Metallica I knew the night was only getting started. I hummed along until I realized that he hadn't returned to his seat but instead sat just a little closer to me. I raised my eyebrows at my drink but otherwise tried to ignore him. I wasn't that easy.

When the barman mixed up our drinks again I rolled my eyes and passed his down without a word.

"I might think you paid him to do that but we're sitting close enough I would have heard that."

You've got to be kidding me. He was trying to flirt, wasn't he? If that was the best he had this would be a disaster. I really couldn't handle a newbie tonight. I tried to smile at him, though I was pretty sure it came out as more of a smirk. He must have gotten the hint because he passed my drink down and had the decency to look a little ashamed of himself.

"At the rate you're going I may never catch up," he said a few minutes later. He seemed somewhere between concerned and flirting but I just glared at him.

"I didn't realize you were trying to."

He moved over again to sit next to me and held up his glass. "It only seemed fair." He downed another shot. "I'm Dean, by the way."

I looked him over before responding. "Olivia."

He held up his next shot as though it was in my honor before shooting it back. I almost smiled.

"Bad day?"

I huffed out a laugh. "You could say that."

"In that case you're probably gonna need something stronger than what you're drinking."

I raised an eyebrow at him. "Are you trying to get me drunk?" The flirtation in my voice surprised even me.

"Just trying to help." He said with a smirk.

"And what about you? That's an awfully strong drink you've got there."

His face darkened slightly and the look it gave his eyes did something to me. Something I wasn't about to admit to. "Let's just say I'm here to get drunk and I don't feel like taking my time about it."

We were both quiet for a few minutes and I studied him shamelessly. Despite the leather jacket I could see that he was beautifully muscular and this time I couldn't help but wonder how those arms would feel wrapped around me.

"Family trouble." I stated. It wasn't quite a question.

He blinked at me, confused. "Yeah. You could say that. How did you know?"

"Trust me," I laughed humorlessly, "that's one I can spot anywhere."

He looked me over once and there was unmistakable approval. Perhaps this wasn't hopeless.

"And that's what brings you here?"

"Perhaps. Smooth subject change, by the way." I smirked at him.

Dean winked and turned away. I took the opportunity to look him over again. There was no end to the things I would let this man do to me.

"So," he said seriously, "you came to relax and de-stress."

I nodded, tossed back a shot, and smiled. I could really feel the effects of the alcohol now and it made everything better. "And maybe have a little fun, though the night seems pretty dead."

His face was serious for just a little longer before it changed suddenly. His eyebrows shot up for a second as his eyes got a very particular gleam to them and he smiled the tiniest grin. I was lost and I knew it.

"Well we'll just have to fix that." He ordered us both another drink before standing up and walking back over to the jukebox. His jeans weren't tight but they certainly looked good on him. By the time he came back and sat next to me there was another Metallica song playing.

I raised my glass and we toasted each other. The buzz I had was making me bold. I had moved so close to him our legs were touching and our elbows kept bumping. Our voices kept getting softer until we were leaning in to hear each other speak. It didn't really come as a surprise when he got right up to my ear to whisper. I nodded at his suggestion and we each paid our tab.

He walked me to his car and I whistled appreciatively at the black Impala. I didn't know much about cars but I knew this was a classic, not to mention gorgeous. I saw him smile at my reaction and when we got to the car he pushed me up against the passenger door. I only had a moment of warning before his lips were on mine. I melted into him and kissed back with all the energy I had. Arms wrapped around waists and shoulders. Hands carded through hair. As his hand moved down to my jeans I smiled and thanked whatever force brought Dean to the bar that night.


End file.
